


no sinner like a young saint

by concordances



Category: 4minute (Band), Beast (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concordances/pseuds/concordances
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First impressions are important. At least, that's what Doojoon tells himself until he remembers the first time he met Gayoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no sinner like a young saint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girltalk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girltalk/gifts).



> A remix of [Hate the Sin, and the Sinner](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3997441) by [kalopsia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girltalk/pseuds/kalopsia) for kpop-ficmix. Crossposted from [livejournal](http://concordances.livejournal.com/3070.html).

When the inevitable ‘ideal type’ question is dropped during their first interview, every member has an answer prepared— in superfluous detail and with the occasional _all our fans are my ideal type_ tacked on at the end. Doojoon doesn’t remember individual descriptions, but he remembers the way Yoseob’s forehead creases in concentration and Kikwang gets a wistful, faraway look in his eye.  
  
By the time they’re celebrating their fifth anniversary, Hyunseung has developed the habit of describing the first girl in the room who catches his eye, Junhyung has dared Yoseob to answer _a girl strong enough to beat me up_ on live broadcast not once, but twice, and Dongwoon has paraphrased his answer enough times to single-handedly start a hairstyle trend among B2UTY.  
  
Personally, Doojoon doesn't believe in an ideal type. It’s not as if he’s going to turn down a girl who doesn’t have fair skin and nice legs, speak four languages, cook him five-course meals, and have a six digit income. Rather than take the whole thing too seriously, he goes with the flow. So it’s no surprise when he receives a question on their fancafe and finds he doesn’t remember half the things he’s said in the past.  
  
_doojoon oppa always gives a different answer when he’s asked his ideal type heol.. it seems a little insincere.. doojoon oppa which one is your real ideal type?_  
  
Doojoon pauses, fingers poised over the keyboard.  
  
It’s one of the things they’re taught prior to debut. Answers aiming to please have to be either vague enough not to be exclusive, or specific enough to be considered quirky. You don’t sign up to be an idol without being prepared to sacrifice some credibility. Besides, an ideal type isn’t someone you’re dead set on going out with. Everyone— especially idols, whose chances to date are sparser than the periodical cicada— has something they _think_ they like.  
  
_I’ve changed my mind over the years, Doojoon types, fingers working faster than his mind. But I’ll answer straightforwardly now.  
  
My ideal type is—_  
  
  
  


  
  
  
**i. a well-mannered girl**  
  
Kikwang regards his phone warily, like it might spring up at any moment and bite him. When it vibrates with an incoming text for the tenth time in two minutes, he grabs it and shoves it behind the nearest couch cushion, out of sight.  
  
“She’s pissed,” he announces, as if Doojoon isn’t well aware and expecting to receive a number of similarly angry texts by the end of the night. Gayoon seems to reserve an advanced level of vitriol for them both, but at least this time Kikwang had been more a bystander than anything. Doojoon isn’t in the mood to find out how much more creative Gayoon’s insults have gotten in the last few months. In fact, he’d turned off his phone after the very first thread had surfaced on Pann.  
  
He knows Gayoon has a quick temper. He’d been the one to provoke her, but he hadn’t expected her to curse at him and for it to actually be picked up on broadcast. Bad luck, really. The hate comments are probably pouring in by now, but Doojoon’s trying not to think too hard about that. He keeps his eyes trained on the television screen.  
  
“You’re horrible friends,” Yoseob comments from where he’s perched on the arm of the couch. He makes a grab for the remote in Dongwoon’s hand, but Dongwoon quickly passes it to Hyunseung, who dumps it in Doojoon’s lap. If Dongwoon weren’t so invested in the rerun that’s on, Doojoon would change the channel to something more distracting. But it’s not often he visits the dorm and all six of them hang out together like this anymore. The remote joins Kikwang’s phone behind the cushion.  
  
In theory, whatever bullshit netizens come up with shouldn’t matter. Not after so long of being stepped on by haters— both literally and figuratively. Doojoon remembers the snide comments about BEAST being a recycled group, remembers feeling his blood boil and fists curl in helpless anger like it had been just yesterday. Six years later, negative comments shouldn’t even touch them. But they still manage to.  
  
It’s unsettling to know he’d indirectly provided material for which netizens would badmouth Gayoon. Doojoon hadn’t meant for it to happen. But Gayoon would probably also have benefitted from not taking everything _so damn seriously_ all the time.  
  
Doojoon doesn’t have anything to say to her. Or rather, he doesn’t have anything to say that won’t sound dismissive or insincere or get him snapped at. So he doesn’t say anything at all.  
  
Yoseob is probably right.  
  
“She asked you what the fuck your problem was, and it was caught on camera?” Hyunseung asks, eyes leaving his phone to look at Doojoon. He seems to be the only one refreshing the comments section regularly. “Wait, no… it says whatever she said was inaudible in the original broadcast, but someone toyed with the volume. Geez.”  
  
Doojoon massages his temple. Some fans’ obsessive dedication was something he’d never entirely gotten used to. “Yeah. Geez.”  
  
“Maybe you should call her,” Dongwoon suggests, eyes not leaving the television.  
  
“ _Is this really a surprise coming from an ill-mannered bitch like her?_ ” Hyunseung declaims in his Dramatic Netizen voice. “ _First the obscene gestures, now this. She seems to think she can be careless because a few years have passed._ ”  
  
Dongwoon winces. “Or maybe not.”  
  
Kikwang grabs a cushion and takes a swing at Hyunseung, who ducks quickly down to the floor so that the cushion ends up nailing Junhyung in the back of the head. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, Hyunseung is trying to stick a socked foot in Dongwoon’s face. Yoseob takes advantage of the chaos to stick his hand in the bag of chips Junhyung had been guarding.  
  
It’s perfectly fine that he’s leading a pack of twelve-year-olds, Doojoon thinks. Song Ji Hyo is on screen and that’s all that matters.  
  
“You’ve got some shit to work out,” Junhyung mutters to Doojoon once he’s recovered, glaring pointedly at Kikwang and yanking Yoseob’s hand out of his chips. He has, for a while now, been the most perceptive of them when it comes to relationships. “Whatever’s going on between you and Gayoon,” he makes a vague hand gesture, “is a mess.”  
  
Doojoon frowns. “It’s not a mess,” he says. “It’s… dynamic. Our relationship is full of mystery and tension. It’s been that way since the day we met.”  
  
To his right, Kikwang rolls his eyes, but he’s off the hook since he’s known Gayoon longer than Doojoon has. Yoseob’s hand is halfway to the chip bag before he’s batted away.  
  
Doojoon refocuses his attention on the television screen. He’s going to enjoy this drama. Nothing more is going to remind him of swearing scandals, relationships, or Gayoon.  
  
“It’s complicated,” muses one of the characters on screen, a man in a suit sporting a black eye. “Even when it’s over, it’s not really over.”  
  
Doojoon buries his face in a cushion and groans.  
  


  
  
  
  
  
**ii. a girl who gives a ‘love at first sight’ sort of feeling**  
  
Their first encounter can hardly be considered mysterious. In reality, the first time Doojoon meets Gayoon in one of the dim, narrow hallways outside the practice rooms, he thinks for a moment she’s going to punch him.  
  
It’s been a week since he transferred to Cube, recent elimination from Hot Blood weighing on his mind. A new company means a new start, but it also means more than one set of new faces waiting to assess his worth, to tear him apart if they feel he’s lacking. Any mistake could be fatal to someone who’s already failed once. Every opportunity to debut that comes by is more elusive than the last.  
  
Time means little when you’re a trainee, confined to the practice studio day and night. Even so, Doojoon isn’t expecting anyone to be around when he goes to retrieve the towel he’d forgotten after dance practice. His body feels heavy, movements sluggish. He can’t remember the last time he actually felt well-rested. When a door he’s about to pass on the way to the studio is thrown open and someone walks out, he’s caught off guard.  
  
It’s another trainee. That much is clear from her loose t-shirt and sweatpants, as well as the general air of despondency surrounding her. Her head is bowed, but Doojoon doesn’t need to see her face to recognise the feeling. He’s distantly aware that his head is throbbing, probably from nerves eating at him as his first evaluation nears. The fuzziness blanketing his mind is the only excuse he has for not moving out of her way.  
  
The girl make a high-pitched noise of surprise when she almost slams into him. Stumbling a few steps past him, she whirls around, the expression on her face making Doojoon quail.  
  
“You—” she growls, at the same instant Doojoon’s brain finally reboots, allowing him to throw his hands up defensively and say, “Whoa.”  
  
The girl has a slightly round face and square jaw, hair plastered to her forehead with sweat and mouth twisted in a scowl. She’d probably be pretty if she smiled. Prettier. The look in her eyes is so intense that Doojoon actually takes a step backwards.  
  
He must look shocked, because she seems to catch herself. All traces of annoyance vanish from her face, replaced with a stricken look. She reddens and backs away with a hasty bow and apology.  
  
In spite of the exhaustion and anxiety that have plagued him for the better part of the month, Doojoon almost laughs.  
  
“Yoon Doojoon,” he introduces with a polite bow.  
  
“Heo Gayoon,” the girl stammers, mimicking his bow. She looks around his age, and Doojoon can’t help but wonder what kind of baggage she’s carrying, or who she mistook him for to have warranted such a fierce reaction.  
  
It would be a lie to say Doojoon takes an immediate liking to her. But she’s interesting, in the same way that Kikwang— with his tragically mismatched hoodie, sweatpants, and dance shoes— had been the first time Doojoon chanced upon him in the recording studio.  
  
To be a trainee is to exist in limbo. The uncertainty surrounding debut takes its toll on everyone in different ways, but unlike the many trainees who grow restless and disillusioned, Gayoon’s stress culminates in the sharpest glare Doojoon’s ever seen. It’s as if she knows she has something to prove but can’t quite reach it, and more than once Doojoon walks past the practice studio late at night to hear something being thrown against the wall.  
  
Doojoon knows what it’s like to want something so much you can’t sleep at night, to be worried you’ll be cast aside moments before reaching your goal. Maybe in that respect, they’re not all that different.  
  
It takes a few months for Gayoon to stop looking embarrassed every time she greets him, and fewer for Doojoon to realise she isn’t as prickly as she seems. She has a quick mind and equally quick temper, which makes her a lot of fun to tease. They get along.  
  
By the time she’s set to debut in a group of five near the start of summer, Doojoon wishes her, “Good luck, Gayoonie,” and Gayoon doesn’t protest at the nickname.  
  
  
  
  


  
  
**iii. a girl who appears innocent but is unruly**  
  
Someone lets slip that the art director is seeing one of the 4Minute girls in the afternoon, so Doojoon calls an early break from recording. As he meanders his way to that end of the building, he runs into one of their coordis. Her four-month-old daughter is balanced on her hip, other hand typing frantically on her phone, and in line with the whole making-things-up-as-he-goes Doojoon offers to babysit for a while.  
  
He ends up sitting outside the art director’s office with the baby— Jimin, he finally remembers— with no real idea of what he’s doing or whether Gayoon will actually show up.  
  
From what he’s heard, 2Yoon are gearing up for their first comeback. Surprising considering how their first release had fared, though maybe less so considering recent events. Maybe the public will forget about all the controversy Gayoon had stirred up if she puts on a dress out of a 1950s catalogue over a pair of jeans onstage, just like the last time.  
  
Doojoon is jiggling his leg restlessly, and Jimin seems to be enjoying the motion. “What are you laughing at?” Doojoon cooes as she makes happy baby noises around the fingers she’s shoved in her mouth. She’s an unusually good-natured for a baby. No sudden tantrums, no frown lines. Give it a couple of decades and a career in the entertainment industry.  
  
He’s alerted to an arrival by the soft click of heels rounding the corner, and knows it’s Gayoon from the momentary pause in her step and subsequent weight at the opposite end of the couch. Doojoon chances a glance over. She couldn’t have sat further from him if she tried.  
  
So she’s still mad. That’s fine. Nothing he wasn’t expecting.  
  
Without a word, Gayoon opens the folder in her lap and begins going through several sheets of paper. Doojoon settles for a casual, inoffensive, “What’s that?”  
  
Half of Gayoon’s face is hidden by the sunglasses perched on her nose, but the corners of her mouth are turned downward. “They’re designs,” she explains, voice even despite her frown. “I want to run them by the stylist, see if I can get any say in this.”  
  
Definitely a comeback then. Maybe he’d been right about the stage outfits. At least she isn’t ignoring him. Doojoon adjusts Jimin in his arms, slides across the couch until they’re side-by-side so that he can look at the designs. “It looks good,” he comments.  
  
Jimin reaches for the paper. Gayoon probably isn’t going to like Doojoon any more than she does now if he gets drool on her designs, so he catches Jimin’s hand and pulls it to him.  
  
“Hey,” he says, in a mock-stern voice. “We don’t do that, alright Jimin?”  
  
Jimin runs her fingers down his face instead, instead getting drool on his cheek. It’s not a big deal, but Doojoon frowns anyway and pretends to bite her fingers. She squeals.  
  
Gayoon surveys them quietly— well, he can’t actually see her surveying them from behind those sunglasses, but her face is tilted towards them and her fingers are no longer fiddling with her designs, which is as good an indication as any. The silence that falls over them is heavy. For the first time since she’d cursed at him on broadcast a month ago, Doojoon finds himself wondering, really wondering, how she’s doing.  
  
She doesn’t appear distressed, but she’d been glaringly absent from the last two company events. Jiyoon had looked apprehensive when Doojoon asked about her. No one emerges completely unscathed from a scandal, no matter how insignificant.  
  
He should apologise, maybe.  
  
But whether it’s pride or awkwardness, there’s something holding Doojoon back. So he shuts out all thoughts of the tension between them, asks blandly, “Are you excited about this comeback?”  
  
Gayoon seems to consider the question. “Yeah,” she lies.  
  
People are wrong about her, Doojoon thinks. She may cuss like a businessman after one too many bottles of soju and have a bit of a violent streak, and she’s blunt and more often than not sarcastic, but she’s not a _bad_ person. Despite the image she’d somehow managed to cultivate in the eye of the public, she’s only human.  
  
When the door to the office swings open, Gayoon leaps up, folder in clutched in her hands. The sound of the door shutting is jarring in the empty waiting area. Doojoon is left on the couch, bouncing Jimin on his knee.  
  
Jimin sticks the fingers of her other hand in her mouth. When she pulls them out, a trail of saliva gets all down her front and on the leg of Doojoon’s pants.  
  
“What are we going to do with you?” Doojoon murmurs.  
  
Jimin gurgles in response.  
  
  
  
  


  
  
**iv. a girl with a nice no-makeup face**  
  
Doojoon is facing the washroom mirror when the call for five minutes to finale goes off. He’s not checking that everything's in place; he knows he looks fine. Yoseob had somehow managed to clip him in the jaw with his elbow during _Soom_ , and Doojoon runs a quick hand down the side of his face in search for any sign of bruising.  
  
Even if it were a serious injury, he doubts he’d be able to feel anything over the current adrenaline rush. The United Cube concert had drawn an impressive number of fans— they’re performing in front of a sold-out crowd after just two years. The stadium is five times the size of the one their solo concert had been held at in December, and the cheers are _deafening_. Doojoon knows not all of them are for BEAST exclusively, but he still has to bite back a grin whenever he’s onstage facing the endless expanse of flashing lights.  
  
As he steps out of the washroom, he sees Gayoon walking briskly in his direction.  
  
“Nice hair,” Doojoon calls by way of a greeting. Gayoon glares but doesn’t stop, spits several strands of brown out of her mouth and reaches a hand up to try and fix the section that’s mussed. 4Minute must have just finished their last performance. Her forehead is shiny with sweat, chest heaving against the tight fabric of her sequined dress.  
  
She looks almost like a different person to the trainee he’d met in the corridor four years ago. Not in the way that some idols disappear for a week and reappear with a new nose, but in the way she moves. There’s a certain professionalism in the way she carries herself, even when they’re not in front of cameras or an audience. Doojoon takes a step sideways once Gayoon is near enough, effectively cutting her off from the washroom.  
  
“What do you—” is all she gets out before Doojoon reaches out with a hand, gently brushing the stray hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.  
  
Gayoon stiffens. Doojoon watches as she opens her mouth but doesn’t speak. The skin between her eyebrows pinches slightly in— disapproval? Confusion?  
  
Doojoon swallows. “Did you have some… _urgent business_ to attend to?” he asks to offset the gesture, complete with an obnoxious eyebrow wiggle. It seems to do the trick. Gayoon breaks her gaze to roll her eyes.  
  
“Only one of us is here is full of shit,” she mutters, not meeting his eye.  
  
Doojoon raises an eyebrow. “You’d better get going then.”  
  
“You’re in my way,” she answers faintly, making no move to sidestep him.  
  
The harsh lighting highlights her makeup, makes it look darker than it would probably appear otherwise. This close, he can see every contour of her face in detail. Her lipstick is beginning to bleed, eyeliner smudged almost unnoticeably at the right corner. Not a big deal for going on stage. Doojoon thinks back to the times he used to catch her wandering the company hallways, hair tied back in a messy ponytail and bare-faced. Heavy makeup makes Gayoon look older than she actually is.  
  
Even so, he thinks of kissing her.  
  
Doojoon leans in.  
  
Gayoon doesn’t move, but she doesn’t pull away either. Doojoon brings a hand slowly to her face and hears her breath hitch, sees the slight shiver that passes through her body despite the carefully regulated temperature backstage. What little air that now separates them feels charged. He’s so close that he could count her individual eyelashes.  
  
He doesn’t remember holding his breath.  
  
His hand comes up to cup her face without him willing it to, and he presses his thumb lightly to her cheek.  
  
Then he makes a swiping motion and withdraws his hand. Takes a step backwards.  
  
“BB cream,” he says, voice surprisingly steady, and Gayoon’s eyes widen in shock for a split second before her expression darkens, eyes narrowing dangerously. She steps forward and shoves at his shoulders hard, making him stumble.  
  
“Asshole,” she snaps, though some of the effect is lost thanks to the flush high on her cheeks. She turns on her heel, leaving abruptly in the direction she’d come.  
  
Doojoon watches her go, insides turning. The adrenaline seems to be wearing off, leaving him slightly numb. He barks out a laugh.  
  
It’s loud, bordering on hysterical. Almost enough to distract him from how fast his heart is beating.  
  
  
  


  
  
  
**v. a girl with a pretty chest**  
  
“Are you _crazy_?”  
  
Gayoon bristles, face contorted in some mixture of anger and disbelief. She punctuates her accusation with a sharp jab to Doojoon’s chest.  
  
Doojoon reaches out, delicately removing her finger. He’s more disgruntled than anything. “Hello to you too.”  
  
Sure, Doojoon had been the one getting cozy with one of Cube’s backup dancers, Yoomi. And even though they hadn’t been doing anything, it was probably enough to score Doojoon his very own front-page Dispatch article and scandal. But he’d been well aware of that. They’d only been outside for a minute, and no one _actually_ frequented the back exit of the broadcasting building. Except Gayoon, apparently.  
  
"What are you thinking?” Gayoon hisses. “Outside SBS's building? Great leadership skills, oppa, doing real good for the team."  
  
Doojoon feels himself stiffen. Frustration simmers just under his skin— at Gayoon, at himself. But while Gayoon lashes out when she’s frustrated, Doojoon’s anger sharpens his tongue.  
  
"Yeah, this is crazy,” he says, intentionally provocative. “We look too obvious here, let's take it inside.”  
  
It works. Gayoon sneers. "Ha. No. I'm not you, alright? I'm not going around canoodling with dancers from the _same agency_."  
  
"Yeah, you're not," and Doojoon takes a step forward so that they’re mere inches apart.  
  
Gayoon’s cheeks are flushed, her breath stuttering slightly. She’s upset, obviously. She’s indignant and uncertain and _unhappy_. It occurs to Doojoon that even though he can read Gayoon, he doesn’t necessarily understand her. She had been the one to end things between them before they’d even started. Now 2Yoon’s song is at the top of digital charts, Gayoon’s month-old scandal swept under the rug. She should be happy. But instead she seems more miserable than ever.  
  
"You're not,” he repeats. “So what's it to you if I do?"  
  
Gayoon looks away, her voice coming out small. “I’m not going to let you make me feel bad.”  
  
“I’ve never _ever_ wanted to make you feel bad,” Doojoon says. It’s the truth. “I’m not going to start now.”  
  
“Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”  
  
It feels like a repeat of that day. Gayoon holds herself to certain standards, torments herself over things beyond her control. Doojoon can only guess what she’s thinking, is at a complete loss when it comes to what she _wants_.  
  
Doojoon sighs. “No, Gayoonie—”  
  
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps weakly, still not looking at him.  
  
“—You’re doing it to yourself.”  
  
Doojoon had been attracted to the ease with which Yoomi laughed, her bright smile and full figure. But despite all that, she isn’t Gayoon. They’re nothing alike. When Doojoon had leaned in to kiss Yoomi earlier, he’d thought fleetingly of the way Gayoon had sucked in a breath when he’d done the same at the first United Cube concert.  
  
He thinks of the guilty look on Yoomi’s face when she’d left for the building no more than a few minute ago. Then he looks at Gayoon in front of him, face drawn beneath her makeup.  
  
Even now, the answer is obvious.  
  
“I’m not going to go home with her,” Doojoon says, taking a step back to restore the rightful distance between them.  
  
“Good,” Gayoon sniffs, wiping at her eye. Doojoon is inwardly thankful that she doesn’t start crying. He wouldn’t know what to do if she did.  
  
The air is chilly, but suddenly everything feels too stuffy. Doojoon needs to leave, get away and clear his head. The only place to go is back into the building. Recording is going to start soon anyway, and 2Yoon seem to have a fair shot at the trophy.  
  
He pats Gayoon on the back as he walks past. “I hope you win,” he says, and he means it.  
  
  


  
  
  
  
**vi. a girl who communicates**  
  
Doojoon sends Gayoon a congratulatory text when 2Yoon places first, but doesn’t otherwise contact her for the next few weeks. He has hardly any schedule to speak of until shooting for his next drama begins, so he finds mundane ways to busy himself. Searches online threads to see which idol netizens want kicked out of their respective group this week, thinks about how to fix things with Gayoon. Watches some television. Does the laundry.  
  
At the end of the third week, Yoseob and Kikwang show up at his apartment under the guise of “just visiting”. It might have him fooled, if not for the fact that it’s three in the morning and they don’t knock. Doojoon is too groggy to notice any of this. Six years of idol training kicks in, and he blindly obeys the order to get dressed and presentable in ten minutes. They’re out the door in six.  
  
“That was easier than expected,” Yoseob chirps as he shoves Doojoon into the taxi waiting outside, getting in after him. Kikwang climbs in through the door on the opposite side. By the time Doojoon is awake enough to consider getting them booted from the group, they’re already more than halfway to Cheonggyecheon.  
  
“I’m your hyung,” he informs them, in case they’ve forgotten.  
  
“You were moping,” Kikwang insists. “I’ve been on talking to Gayoonie for _weeks_. You need to… do something about that. But for now, we’re getting you out.”  
  
“I wasn’t _moping_ —”  
  
“You were moping,” Yoseob confirms.  
  
They end up walking along the stream, yellow lights of the canal lighting their path. It’s no more peaceful than his apartment, but the fresh air does a good job of dispelling the restlessness he’s been feeling for at least a fortnight. Before the drama shootings and musicals and solo promotions, the six of them used to sneak out in the middle of the night to go to Han River. Not to do anything in particular, but just sit and talk about training, girls, the latest trending music.  
  
Doojoon closes his eyes and tries to remember what it feels like to be twenty years old, to not know whether he’d ever stand on stage and perform. That sense of desperation, the perpetual fear of falling short. It’s funny how much his worries have changed since the time they’d just debuted. Back then, he’d been deathly afraid people wouldn’t pay them any attention. Now, the reverse is the problem.  
  
They stay until the sky begins to lighten. Doojoon’s eyelids are growing heavier by the minute, and people will probably start showing up in the area soon. They walk along some nearby shops in search of food, intent on grabbing breakfast before heading back. Doojoon idles outside the convenience store as Yoseob and Kikwang battle it out over bread flavours inside.  
  
Along the next street, several shops boast an assortment of colorful boxes stacked high outside shop doors. Not boxes, Doojoon realises as takes a few steps closer. Cages. Cages with animals in them. It’s the pet market, and all kinds of animals are up on display. Guinea pigs, rabbits, fish. Exotic birds. Reptiles.  
  
Suddenly, Doojoon has an idea.  
  
Yoseob chooses that moment to come up behind him and thrusts a plastic bag full of assorted food into his hands. Kikwang seems to notice the look on Doojoon’s face. “Don’t do it,” he says immediately.  
  
Doojoon frowns. “I haven’t said anything.”  
  
“But you were thinking something.” Kikwang isn’t even looking at him, preoccupied with shoving bread in his mouth. It’s very unflattering. Doojoon considers snapping a photo and threatening to sell it to his fansites. “This doesn’t have to do with Gayoonie, does it?”  
  
Doojoon’s frown deepens. “I haven’t even told you my idea yet.”  
  
Yoseob follows his line of vision, squints at the containers cluttering the space outside the shop. Then he turns back to Doojoon. “It’s a bad idea,” he decides.  
  
For some unfathomable reason, Gayoon likes snakes. She’d once told Doojoon that she would keep one as a pet if the rest of the girls weren’t scared of them. There are probably a hundred different reasons why Doojoon shouldn’t walk into the store, enquire about snakes, and unleash a barrage of questions on the shop owner ( _Is it poisonous? Does it bite? So it bites, but it’s not poisonous? Is it legal?_ ), but he does it anyway.  
  
The snake— a kind of python, no longer than his forearm— comes locked in a small cage. Even so, Doojoon is banned by Junhyung from stepping foot into the dorm with it, and he doesn’t see any sign of Dongwoon for a week. But it’s all worth the look on Gayoon’s face when he goes to visit her at her follow up music video shoot and accidentally lets it loose on set.  
  
This time, Yoseob is wrong.  
  
  
  


  
  
  
**vii. a girl with good character**  
  
It takes eight years to build up everything they have between them— a mutual understanding, an easy friendship, the knowledge that someone is always running alongside you. It takes half that number of words to bring it all to the ground.  
  
It’s a question. Gayoon knows it, and Doojoon knows she knows it. Even so, Gayoon draws back as if she’s been slapped.  
  
“Go out with me,” Doojoon repeats.  
  
He thinks of the time Hyun Don called to tell him he’d been voted Weekly Idol’s _most desired idol boyfriend_. The satisfaction had been nothing compared to being told right after that Gayoon had voted for him. When Hyun Don asked which female idol Doojoon would choose to date, it had been easy to fire back, to answer _4Minute’s Heo Gayoon_ and listen to Doni and Coni erupt into raucous laughter at the other end of the line.  
  
It had been a joke, though in hindsight not a very good one. Articles about them started cropping up on Pann immediately following the previews. When Gayoon texted Doojoon a playful _You like me that much? You could’ve told me_ , Doojoon had hesitated. He’d deleted the first reply he’d typed, the tongue-in-cheek one meant to rile her up, and told her instead to watch the broadcast for herself.  
  
“No,” Gayoon says in the present, voice thin. “I can’t. We can’t.”  
  
She isn’t well-mannered or innocent, doesn’t have a glamorous body. She didn’t captivate him at first glance and she isn’t agreeable. She’s none of the things Doojoon had thought he’d wanted in a girl, but he likes her all the same.  
  
Doojoon looks at her, takes in everything from her guarded expression to her grasshopper legs, and wonders why she matters so much.  
  
“This is fucked up,” he hears himself mumble. He’s suddenly tired, wants nothing more than to go back to his apartment, lie down and sleep for a long time. Even though it’s near the end of summer, the late afternoon air is uncomfortably humid. Doojoon lets his eyes fall shut.  
  
They seem to have hit a bridge Gayoon isn’t prepared to cross. She seems upset now that he’s brought it to her attention. Doojoon knows the importance she places on her career, should have seen this coming. He would have preferred if she’d gotten angry, raised her voice at him.  
  
When he opens his eyes again, Gayoon is looking at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. “Look,” she breathes. “I— this is—”  
  
But Doojoon can’t do this anymore.  
  
He brushes past her to get to the entrance of the building, doesn’t hear the rest of her words before he shuts the door.  
  
  
  
  


  
  
**viii. 4minute’s heo gayoon**  
  
Doojoon is drawn from his sleep by a loud knocking sound.  
  
He jerks upright into a sitting position, takes stock of his surroundings. He’s on the couch, phone lying next to him and Gag Concert muted on the television. He must have dozed off. After glancing quickly over himself to make sure he’s wearing all the appropriate clothing, Doojoon drags himself off the couch and trudges over to answer the door. Blearily, illogically, he wonders if, somewhere along the line, he ordered a pizza.  
  
The bad news is that he’s wrong. There’s no pizza. The good news is it’s Gayoon standing outside his door, hands folded behind her back and a look of anticipation on her face. Doojoon would probably be more surprised if he weren’t half asleep.  
  
She must not have a schedule, because she’s dressed casually, sans sunglasses. He wants to tell her she looks nice, but he holds back. He’s not prepared for one of her unpredictable moods right now. He also wants to ask how she’s been feeling, but that might seem presumptuous.  
  
“What are you doing here?” is what he finally asks. Even as his hand comes up to rub at his eyes, the haze of sleep over his mind is beginning to lift. It takes him a moment to register that Gayoon doesn’t look mad in any way. In fact, she looks kind of—  
  
“No,” Gayoon says.  
  
Doojoon feels his face scrunch in confusion. “No, what?  
  
Gayoon pulls a piece of paper from her coat and thrusts it at him. It’s the note he’d written the previous week, Doojoon realises as he uncrumples it and sees his own handwriting. The note he’d left for Gayoon when he’d visited 2Yoon’s follow-up music video shooting. And given her a present.  
  
_Congratulations on a successful promotional run! If you like the snake, at least more than you like me, then let’s be friends again — Doojoon_  
  
“So, what?” Doojoon asks, gears in his head working slowly. “No, you—”  
  
“No, I don’t want to be friends,” Gayoon interrupts. “I— this is is stupid. I shouldn’t even have to say anything.”  
  
Something in the vicinity of Doojoon’s chest clenches. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, fights to keep the smile off his face. He wants to savour this moment. “I’m not getting your drift.”  
  
He doesn’t know what he expects, really. A scowl, maybe a slap on the arm. He definitely isn’t expecting Gayoon to open her mouth and declare:  
  
“I’m in love with Kikwang.”  
  
For a second, Doojoon’s mind goes blank. When he recovers, he has to double over from how hard he’s laughing. “Kikwang, hey?”  
  
Gayoon nods, expression serious. “I thought I should be the one to tell you.”  
  
But then she’s smiling, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off Doojoon shoulders, too.  
  
“Alright,” Doojoon says. “Let’s not tell him about this, then.”  
  
Then he kisses her.


End file.
